


Little Things

by lirin



Category: Oxford Time Travel Universe - Connie Willis
Genre: Gen, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 07:38:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13095462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lirin/pseuds/lirin
Summary: A cup of tea. A tiny plant. A coat that reeks of benzene.





	Little Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [resistate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/resistate/gifts).



> With thanks to drayton for betaing!

Mrs. Rickett's house was never fully warm. Rather like her heart, Polly thought. She didn't bother to take off her coat when she got back to the room she shared with Eileen, but threw herself on the bed, coat, shoes, and all.

Eileen jumped at the noise. She'd been reading the newspaper when Polly came in, but now she threw it down. "I wish Alf and Binnie hadn't run off at St. Paul's. This isn't a safe time for children to be tearing about London," she said.

"Remember when we were in Oxford and you talked about never wanting to see them again?" Polly replied, wrinkling her nose.

"Yes, but things are different now. I'm very worried about them, Polly!"

Polly patted her on the shoulder. "They have more practice looking after themselves in 1940s London than you and I have put together. They'll be fine."

"Yes, but they don't know where the bombs are going to fall. What if they decide to hustle shoppers on Oxford Street on one of the days it gets bombed again? What if I never see them again?"

Now that was the crux of the matter, and Polly doubted that Eileen was really talking about Alf and Binnie, even if she thought she was. She patted her on the shoulder again. "Where there's life, there's hope. Heavens, you're cold as ice. Why'd you take your coat off?"

"Benzene," Eileen reminded her. "I put it in the closet to escape the smell for a few minutes."

"Well, then wrap a blanket around yourself or something. And I'm going to make you a cup of tea."

"But what about—"

"Mrs. Rickett? She was stepping out to the shops when I came in. I'll be in and out of the kitchen with nobody the wiser."

"I'll come with you."

The girls tiptoed downstairs. Mrs. Rickett had a very squeaky staircase—Polly thought it was a toss-up whether she just couldn't be bothered to fix it or whether she kept it that way specifically to catch boarders doing what they were doing now—but they had long experience with those particular stairs, and they only stepped on one noisy board. Polly hefted the kettle and turned up the gas. "You've been thinking too long in the cold," she said. She rubbed Eileen's back briskly, like a hug but warmer. "It will be much easier to hope once you've warmed up." She stared at the second hand on her wristwatch. Two minutes exactly; she hoped Eileen liked her tea the same way she did. A splash of milk, so little that hopefully Mrs. Rickett wouldn't notice it missing. And one more thing— She opened jar after jar, until finally she found it.

"No, you can't!" Eileen said. "Mrs. Rickett will be terribly angry."

"She'll never know," Polly said. She took a large spoonful of sugar, and stirred it into the tea. "Just this once. You need it."

Eileen nodded, and accepted the cup.

Polly hurried to put everything in the kitchen back where she'd found it. "Now let's get you upstairs and warmed up," she said. "There's a blanket up there with your name on it."

* * *

The Notting Hill Gate tube station was dreary enough knowing that it was safe; Mike didn't know what he'd do if he were a contemp and didn't have that knowledge.

Actually, he did know: he'd keep coming here every day when the sirens sounded, because when there was nothing else to do, you just carried on as best you could. Just as he and Polly and Eileen were doing. Speaking of— The girls hadn't heard him coming, for once. He tiptoed nearer, wondering how close he could get before they noticed.

"...if only it weren't so drab," Polly said. "Sometimes I pass a florist's stall on my way home from work and I almost can't help myself, I just want something to brighten the room up so badly. But we don't know how long we'll be here; we need to conserve money."

"She'd probably just pinch the flowers and put them in one of her soups, anyway," Eileen said.

"That could only be an improvement," Polly replied. "Mike! You're early!"

Eight steps away. He'd thought for certain he'd make it to the sixth step before she noticed. "There wasn't anything else to do," he said, taking the last steps two at a time. "Or maybe I missed you."

"You mean you missed our coats?" Polly teased. She stood up and took her coat off, and Eileen followed suit. "Scoot close, there's plenty to go around."

 

The bombing ended late that night, and the next morning Mike had to drag himself out of his lodging on even less sleep than usual. He staggered out the door, rubbing his eyes, and nearly stumbled off the pavement onto the dirt beside it. There in the dirt, where he'd almost stepped on it, was a bright green sprout of something—perhaps a flower, or possibly just a weed. Mike had no idea, and it didn't matter. He spared the plant a respectful thought of admiration for its resilience, and headed down the street.

Three houses away, he stopped and ran back. He knelt down and looked closer at the plant. Yes, it seemed like a flower of some sort; there was a bud at the top. He went back to his room, where he knew he had a teacup and spoon. Having acquired these, he sat on the pavement and slowly started to scrape away at the dirt. It was slow going, as it was mostly frozen; Mike found his respect for this little plant continuing to increase. When he thought he'd dug deep enough to be beneath the level of the plant's roots, he shoved the spoon to the side, and the dirt broke off into a nearly-teacup-sized chunk that he set on top of the cup. He knocked at the edges to try to get it to fit better, but it would have to defrost a bit before it would be likely to cooperate. He took the cup back into his room, dribbled a few drops of water onto it from the sink, and set it on the windowsill. With a glance at his wristwatch—he'd only lost five minutes—he hurried back out again.

He wished he could take the flower to Polly now, but she'd already be at work. He'd have to wait until they met at Notting Hill Gate that evening. It didn't matter; he was sure Polly would appreciate something bright and cheerful just as much in the evening as she would in the morning. Maybe more.

He just hoped she knew how to take care of flowers better than he did. And he hoped it actually was a flower...though in these dark days, even a weed could have beauty.

* * *

As much as Mike tried to act as if he weren't cold, Eileen knew he was only pretending. For once, they were meeting during the day, away from the Notting Hill Gate staircase. This meant that it was a few degrees warmer, but unfortunately it also meant that they couldn't huddle together, splitting the two coats three ways. Nor could she hug him to warm him up, because people would see. She almost did it anyway. He looked like he needed it.

If only she'd gone to the Assistance Board. They must have something warmer than that little pumpkin-colored scarf. But she'd have to be at work all day today. There would be no time.

Actually, being at work all day gave her an idea. "Mike? Do you have time to walk me to work?"

"Of course. Any reason why?"

"Maybe. You'll have to wait and find out." She took his arm. That was proper, at least. She pulled him as close as she could, covering as much of his arm as possible with her own warmer one, and dared the world to object.

Mike walked her right up to the front door of Townsend Brothers, and released her arm with a graceful bow. "Your department store awaits you, Miss O'Reilly."

"Thank you...and I have something for you. To borrow, I mean." She slipped her coat off of her shoulders. "I'll be inside all day, so you can use it better than I. You can give it back to me tonight at the emergency staircase. I'm sorry I haven't been to the Assistance Board yet. I'll go as soon as I possibly can." Mike stood there and didn't respond, so she put the coat around his shoulders. "I know it doesn't really fit you, and you probably don't like the smell of benzene any more than I do, but it will keep you warm when Polly and I aren't there to take care of you."

Mike smiled, then, and put his arms into the sleeves. The coat pulled tight across his back and he probably wouldn't be able to raise his arms at all, but at least the fabric held and didn't tear. "Thanks for thinking of me," he said.

"I think about you all the time. And Polly, of course. You two are the closest things I have to family now. And we have to look after family, don't we?" She turned to go inside. "Now, promise you'll give it back to me tonight! And I'll get you another coat soon."

Mike smiled back at her. "It's a promise."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic of] Little Things](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14244276) by [frecklebombfic (frecklebomb)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklebomb/pseuds/frecklebombfic), [idellaphod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/idellaphod/pseuds/idellaphod), [knight_tracer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/knight_tracer/pseuds/knight_tracer)




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